


like heaven to touch

by mightyleviathan



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: M/M, Mentions Of Infidelity, Pre-Canon, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:48:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22473619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightyleviathan/pseuds/mightyleviathan
Summary: The first time he saw Whizzer on his knees, gazing up at him with swollen lips and messy hair, he thoughtthis is going to kill me.He knows now he was wrong. This, his warm eyes glistening and filled with affection, slight crows feet evident at the corners in an invisible smile-thisis going to be the death of him.
Relationships: Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Comments: 20
Kudos: 81





	like heaven to touch

“Oh, bullshit!” he cries with a laugh. “Even paraplegics can dance in their wheelchairs. Wusses just say that they ‘don’t dance’ to get out of it.” 

His voice rises with indignation “I can honestly say I do not recall dancing _ever._ I pretended to have the flu for every school dance so I wouldn't have to go.” What Marvin doesn’t mention is that he didn’t want to attend because he knew what his girlfriend expected of him on those nights. The knowing look he receives makes it seem Whizzer catches on anyway.

They had retired to Whizzer’s musty couch with a bottle of cheap red wine (he makes a mental note to buy him a nicer red, for next time) after their last round ended. They had redressed for the most part, simply talking as they laid back against the rough fabric. Marvin kept one leg wrapped under Whizzer’s calf and kept his hand resting at the back of his neck, clinging to the simple contact.

He gets a disbelieving snort in reply. “You’re telling me you didn’t dance at your wedding.” he states.

“I’m sure I did, I just don’t _remember_ it. I don’t remember much of my wedding at all. I had gone through two bottles of bourbon starting at Eight the night before.”

Whizzer rolls his eyes and pushes himself out of his seat. Marvin tried not to mourn the loss of contact as he watched the other man trudge across his dingy, yet neat studio apartment. listening to him shuffle around he closes his eyes and tries to focus on the smell of the wine and the old couch and this bitchy, spontaneous, gorgeous man who for some reason let’s _him_ (boring, restless, itching, average) show up to his home unannounced when he needs to feel something. When he needs to feel _him._

He opened his eyes at a familiar, faint scratching sound and finds himself being approached with a mischievous, borderline condescending smile. He holds his hand out to Marvin expectantly as the sound of brass breaks softly through the speakers of the record player. 

He’s sure his disbelief shows. As he’s about to shake his head and push him away, he glances back to the face of the seemingly larger than life individual looming over him. Something in his expression causes him to pause. Something less mocking, more amused. A softer upturn to his lips. Something Marvin yearns to be affection, but prays isn’t. If it is, he doesn’t trust himself from behaving very, very stupidly. So he grabs the rough hand in his own and stumbles as he hoists himself up. Whizzer’s laugh rumbles against his own chest as he’s pulled close. 

“Lightweight.” he murmurs. Marvin responds by tightly pinching the skin of his bicep through his shirt. He doesn’t dare tell him it isn’t the wine that made him falter. Doesn’t mention the lightheadedness sparked by his touch, the elation and intoxicating irritation that his presence causes to swell inside him.

After Marvin’s hand is gently slapped away, two hands are placed on his shoulders and he receives another mutter in his ear. “I’ll bite the bullet and be the girl. I have a feeling you wouldn’t handle that too well.” The hand Marvin’s moved to his waist tenses at the barb, but he manages to bite his tongue, hoping to hang on to the peace of the evening. “Who knows, maybe you’ll be able to show your new skills to the lucky lady sometime.” he muses. To his surprise, there’s not an ounce of cruelty in his voice. Still, the statement makes the taste of wine on his tongue sour. The thought of soiling this moment by sharing it with her makes him nauseous. He simply hums in response.

If Whizzer was going to teach him how to dance, he doesn’t follow through. Just allows Marvin's hands to fall to his waist (he may not really know how to do this, but he’s not clueless) as they start swaying. His own movements are stiff and uncomfortable. Pride has always been his downfall, he knows that. Marvin would rather die than face humiliation. Yet, he finds it in himself to savor the ridges of muscle and bone and faint warmth under his fingertips he feels through the silk shirt his partner wears. Whizzer has a magical ability to see right through him, to cut through the hopeless pride and bravado. He turns Marvin’s worst fears into foreplay.

He finds that he finally knows what it feels like to be a pathetic horny kid at a school dance.

After the first song ends, he finds his shoulders relaxing under Whizzer’s palms as the man’s blunt, bitten fingernails gently scrape the skin at the back of his neck. He thinks back to all the times he avoided doing this with girls and mourns. Mourns that he didn’t have a pretty boy instead of a pretty girl he was allowed to touch in public at those dances. _At his wedding._ The thought is treacherous, and is only worsened when he finds himself looking back at the face inches away from his. He’s been shifting his eyes over the prints of city lights framed on the stained white walls in an attempt to keep his cool. It was a good idea, because when he finds himself looking back, any sense of self preservation remaining is thoroughly lost.

The first time he saw Whizzer on his knees, gazing up at him with swollen lips and messy hair, he thought _this is going to kill me._

He knows now he was wrong. _This,_ his warm eyes glistening and filled with affection, slight crows feet evident at the corners in an invisible smile- _this_ is going to be the death of him. 

It feels wrong to see Whizzer look at him that way. He can’t help waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the insult, the joke, the shove to come- but this time, one doesn’t. He simply looks at Marvin, (the way Marvin looks at him) and Marvin stares back with his heart in his throat as they sway in place. Neither of them notice when the music stops. The only sound that fills the room is the idle scratch of needle to vinyl.

Whizzer’s breath catches as his gaze leaves Marvin’s face for a moment, looking slightly off center to his hand on his shoulder. “It’s late.” he whispers. Marvin realizes he’s gazing at the chunky gold watch that always graces his left hand.

“She can wait.” It’s more of a plea than a statement.

“No she can’t.” He shakes his head as he pulls away, letting his hands rest in his pockets. As if to keep himself from reaching out again. Marvin can’t dare to hope. The _she shouldn’t have to,_ remains unsaid

His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest as he finishes redressing, _reeling._ Whizzer takes the wine glasses to the sink to wash.

They don’t kiss goodbye.

**Author's Note:**

> first work for falsettos, late to the game. just got the itch to write a little something for it. i tried to leave it open to any casting, so its the reader’s preference. i didn’t edit super thoroughly, so i hope there aren’t too many issues with it. i’d love to hear what you think!!!
> 
> title is from the song can’t take my eyes off of you, which was absolutely on the record.


End file.
